


where the lovelight gleams

by troubadore



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Witchers (The Witcher), Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubadore/pseuds/troubadore
Summary: "Are you still at the airport?" Geralt interrupts him, still smiling at the way not even not getting to see his sister for the holiday seems to dampen his spirits.Jaskier takes a breath, like Geralt hoped he would. "Yes," he says, voice small and tired again. "I'm really sorry, Geralt, but would it be too out of your way to come get me? I'd get an Uber but the rates tonight are going to be exorbitant and I'm not going to get this ticket refunded in this lifetime, you know how the travel business is—a load of bullshit, if you ask me—but if it's too much trouble—"Geralt thinks about the decaying endrega head in his trunk waiting to be delivered to the man who'd given him the contract, and then he thinks about how Jaskier has been at the airport all day waiting to go home on a flight that isn't even happening now and how tired he must be, and makes a decision."I'll be there in half an hour," he says softly.orGeralt takes Jaskier home for the holidays
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 35
Kudos: 384
Collections: Geraskier Holiday Exchange 2020





	where the lovelight gleams

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas charlie! i'm your geraskier holiday exchange gifter and it was such a pleasure to make you something this year! hope you like it!

Geralt frowns when his phone rings from the passenger seat where he'd tossed it earlier. The clock on the dashboard tells him it's just past two in the morning, and he can't think of anyone who'd call this late. He picks it up and frowns harder when he sees Jaskier's name on the caller id. 

He puts it on speaker when he answers. "Jas?" 

"Hey, Geralt!" Jaskier's voice comes through bright and cheery, but Geralt can hear the underlying exhaustion in it. 

"Aren't you supposed to be on a plane right now?" 

"Haha, funny story about that," Jaskier says, and he sounds almost sheepish, as if he's embarrassed about it. "Turns out that winter storm we were expecting at the end of the week? It's here now, actually." 

Geralt watches his windshield wipers work at maximum speed to clear away the snow falling in thick flakes as he drives home. "Mm. It would seem so." 

"Well, because of this, all flights out have been canceled." Jaskier sighs. "So, no, I'm not on a plane right now, and it doesn't look like I'll be on one in the near future, either." 

"Sorry. That sucks." 

He can almost see the way Jaskier flaps his hand dismissively and it makes him smile. "Not to worry! My family will just have to celebrate without me this year. Their loss, really, I had the perfect gifts for them this year and now they'll have to wait until after the new year to see them. Oh, Essi is going to be _devastated_ when I call her—" 

"Are you still at the airport?" Geralt interrupts him, still smiling at the way not even not getting to see his sister for the holiday seems to dampen his spirits. 

Jaskier takes a breath, like Geralt hoped he would. "Yes," he says, voice small and tired again. "I'm really sorry, Geralt, but would it be too out of your way to come get me? I'd get an Uber but the rates tonight are going to be exorbitant and I'm not going to get this ticket refunded in this lifetime, you know how the travel business is—a load of bullshit, if you ask me—but if it's too much trouble—" 

Geralt thinks about the decaying endrega head in his trunk waiting to be delivered to the man who'd given him the contract, and then he thinks about how Jaskier has been at the airport all day waiting to go home on a flight that isn't even happening now and how tired he must be, and makes a decision. 

"I'll be there in half an hour," he says softly. He smirks as he adds, "I know you don't like the smell of rotten monster flesh." 

"You're too kind to me, dear heart," Jaskier laughs, and Geralt tries not to let the endearment go to his head even as it fills his chest with warmth. "I'll find a chair to curl up on and wait for you to call." 

"You do that. Don't get into any trouble." 

"No promises!" Jaskier sing-songs, and Geralt shakes his head as he hangs up, tossing his phone back onto the passenger seat. 

His contractor probably won't like being woken up in the middle of the night to pay him for taking care of his problem, but he doesn't care about that. He's got a best friend to pick up and take care of. 

When he gets to the airport, he finds Jaskier curled up across a row of seats, one leg thrown over the backs and one dangling to the floor as he plays games on his phone. He glances up as Geralt approaches, and his smile is tired but genuine. 

"Hi." 

"Hi yourself," Geralt says. He picks up the two bags at Jaskier's feet as he stands up. "Ready?" 

"To be back home in bed?" Jaskier grins. "More than!" 

As they leave the airport and head to his car, Geralt watches Jaskier out of the corner of his eye. His best friend chatters on as usual, telling him about the people watching he'd done that day, how he misses his students already, how he was looking forward to sharing stories of them with Essi and his parents. 

And it's subtle, something Geralt only notices because he's known the man for so long now, but he can tell Jaskier is extremely disappointed. He thrives on the love of friends and family, and the idea of spending a holiday built around gathering with loved ones alone in his small apartment has Geralt's chest aching. 

Even Geralt himself is visiting his family for the holiday—he and his brothers are meeting up at Vesemir's to binge eat and sleep for two weeks straight. Yen will be bringing Ciri over and she'll wake them up at the asscrack of dawn on Christmas morning to open presents. They'll pass out gifts and have a food fight and yell at the tv while watching the game, and it'll be the warmest part of his year, despite it being the middle of winter. 

Thinking how Jaskier will be missing out on that due to some bad weather has him interrupting Jaskier's babbling to ask, "You wanna come home with me this year?" 

"And I—what?" Jaskier blinks at him from the passenger seat, hands still up from illustrating a part of his story. "Come again?" 

Geralt keeps his eyes on the road, feeling his face warm up. "It's just—I know you, Jas, and you're disappointed at not being with your family this year."  _ It's definitely not that I want to celebrate with you. _ "I just thought you'd like to not be alone." 

Jaskier is quiet for a moment. Geralt starts panicking, thinking he's overstepped some unspoken agreement of their friendship, before Jaskier says, softly, "You'd want me there?" 

"Of course," he says, frowning. "Why wouldn't I?" 

"It's just—that's your family time, isn't it?" Jaskier shrugs, hands twisting in his lap as he plays with the hem of his sweater. "I wouldn't want to intrude." 

"I want you there," Geralt says decisively. "And so will everyone else. They love you, Jas. You're practically family as it is."  _ You're  _ my  _ family. I want you there all the time.  _

"Well, if you're sure," Jaskier says, and he's got a soft smile curling his lips when Geralt glances over at him. "Then I'd love to come." 

Unable to help himself, Geralt smirks at waggles his eyebrows. Jaskier thinks for a split second over his words and snorts, shoving at his arm and laughing. "Shut up, you asshole. I didn't mean it like that." 

_ That's too bad,  _ Geralt thinks, eyeing the sweet blush that covers his cheeks, but he keeps that one to himself and just focuses back on the road. 

  
  


It's an almost six hour trip to the backwoods cabin Vesemir lives in now that he's retired, and Geralt almost—but not quite—regrets asking Jaskier along. 

Not because his best friend talks the entire time there, or can't choose a radio station to settle on and finally gives in and hooks up his phone on the bluetooth and puts on the tackiest Christmas songs he can find—but because it's  _ Jaskier,  _ and Geralt has been in love with him for almost as long as they've known each other, and having him so close in such a confined space for hours on end makes him want to reach over to take his hand so their fingers entwine and lean over at the few red lights they hit to kiss him quiet. 

He squeezes the steering wheel and recites facts about bruxae in his head to keep himself from doing any of that. 

They arrive without any other fanfare than Jaskier panicking about forgetting one of his favorite sweaters, which Geralt assuages by assuring him he did, in fact, pack it, because Geralt watched him do it. They're tired and cranky from sitting in a confined space for hours on end, so when he finally gets out of the car and inhales the crisp winter air, it's like a mental reset. 

"I don't think I've seen Vesemir since he retired, have I?" Jaskier asks, and Geralt looks over at him, watching the way the winter wind whips his hair around softly. Snowflakes fall thick and fluffy and catch on his lashes and cheeks. 

Geralt forces himself to look away and ignore the way his heart does something funny in his chest. "Mm, don't think so," he agrees. "But he only moved out here...year before last? Two years ago? Pretty recent." 

Jaskier nudges him playfully in the arm as they walk up to the door. "Wanted to get away from his rambunctious sons, eh?" 

"Something like that," Geralt chuckles, holding the door open for him. 

He hears her before he sees her, and as Jaskier steps to the side to hang up his coat, Geralt goes to one knee and opens his arms for the ball of energy that comes sprinting out from the living room. She crashes into him at full speed, and it's only thanks to his own mass that they don't go tumbling back out into the cold.

"Daddy!" Ciri shrieks, and he squeezes her in a tight hug as she buries her face in his neck. "You're here!" 

"Hey, princess," he says, picking her up and spinning her around to delighted giggles. "I thought Mom wasn't bringing you for another week." 

"Change of plans," Yen's voice says from the kitchen, and Geralt finds her watching the proceedings in amusement. "School let out early and she wanted to surprise Daddy for the holidays." 

His heart gives another weird thump and he tucks his little girl to his chest. "Well, it's definitely a surprise, and I love it. Thank you. And, hey, I've got a surprise for you, too." 

He turns so that she can see Jaskier standing there, watching everything with soft eyes. He makes eye contact with Geralt and smiles. Ciri perks up again. 

"Papa!" 

There's that familiar squeeze in his chest again, and Geralt looks from Jaskier to Yen as his daughter scrambles out of his arms and into Jaskier's, pleading with his eyes for—something, he doesn't know, but she just raises her eyebrows pointedly and turns away, leaving him to deal with his pining on his own. 

Seven years ago, Jaskier had come into his life when Geralt had been at the end of his rope, a brand new baby girl on his hip and nothing in his vast wealth of knowledge as a witcher in how to raise her. He'd been so lost standing in the baby formula aisle at the local grocery store, staring in horror at all the different types while Ciri cried, and it had been a blessing when a kind, sweet-faced man with blue eyes and a bright smile offered to help him pick some things out, get him started, because he'd raised plenty of his young cousins and he couldn't stand to see someone in need. 

Not even when Jaskier realized he was talking to a witcher had he faltered in his resolve to help Geralt find his feet in his new role as father, and to this day, Geralt can't thank him enough for all he's done—from babysitting last-minute when a hunt came up to teaching him how to change diapers, and always,  _ always  _ being happy to see Ciri, never treating her as an unwanted burden no matter how cranky and fussy she can be. 

It's a running joke now that they're not together yet despite practically being married as it is, and Geralt's pretty sure his brothers and ex have a betting pool on which one of them will confess first. 

Right now, though, watching Jaskier indulge Ciri's rapid-fire retelling of the last week of school, attentive and engaging and keeping up with her changes of topics like it's as easy as breathing, he decides he's going to win his ex some extra Christmas money to spend on their daughter. 

"Look who finally decided to show his ugly mug!" 

Geralt rolls his eyes as Lambert pokes his head out from the kitchen, followed by Eskel. "Didn't I tell you looking into a mirror too much is bad for you?" 

Eskel snorts while Lambert gives him a subtle middle finger where Ciri can't see, pretending to pick his nose with it, which—okay. He can't help all the bad habits she picks up while growing up in this family, he supposes. 

He embraces his brothers in big, tight hugs, though, and they take a moment to press their heads together. Another year on the Path, and they've all survived; it's something they're all grateful for. 

Already, Geralt feels happier than he's been all year, surrounded by his family and loved ones. He waves at Triss and Vesemir puttering around the kitchen getting Christmas dinner ready, before taking his and Jaskier's things up to the guest bedroom they're going to share. He tries not to think too hard about sleeping next to Jaskier, his warm body pressed close and soft snores lulling Geralt to sleep, but it's hopeless. 

Maybe though, he thinks as he sets their bags down, looking out the small window to watch the snow fall gently, it's something he'll get to have even after the magic of Christmas has faded. 

Maybe this time, he'll get to keep Jaskier, and be Jaskier's in return. 

Back downstairs, Ciri and Jaskier are sprawled on the floor in the living room playing with a few of her action figures. He watches them with warm fondness filling his chest, feeling a smile pulling at his lips when Jaskier scoops her up in his arms and blows raspberries against her cheek, making her squeal. 

"You really need to make a move," Eskel murmurs behind him, and Geralt inhales, holding the breath for a second before letting it out. 

"I know." 

"I'm serious," his brother continues, as they move toward the kitchen. "You look at him like he hung the moon, and the only other person who gets that look is that little girl in there." 

"I  _ know,  _ Esk," he sighs. He's frustrated with himself, mostly; too much of a coward to ruin the good thing he has now for something better. "I want to. I—I think I'm going to. This year." 

The smile that breaks across Eskel's face makes the smallest bit of pride well up in him. "We're all rooting for you, you know. He's the—well. He's the second best thing that's ever happened to you. We just want to see you happy." 

"Yeah, you're a lot more tolerable when you're getting laid regularly." Lambert pops up from nowhere, pushing a mug of warm cider into his hand. "You'll be doing all of us a favor if you just—" 

He makes a lewd gesture and Geralt reaches out to smack him on the head. "Shut up. You know it's not—it's not just about that."

Lambert's nose scrunches up and he makes a gagging face. "Yeah, I know. It's  _ love.  _ Eugh. You're getting sappy in your old age, pretty boy." 

"You're one to talk," Eskel snorts. "Mr. I-Write-Love-Notes-To-My-Crush-In-The-Notes-App-On-My-Phone." 

"Hey!" Lambert points a threatening finger at him. "I told you that in confidence." 

"While drunk," Geralt adds, nodding sagely. "It was pretty pathetic." 

They devolve into a wrestling match, all of them trying not to drop their drinks while also trying to put the others in headlocks. Vesemir finally emerges to tell them to cool it or take it outside, and they all sheepishly apologize and volunteer to help set the dining room for dinner. 

When the food is ready, Triss calls everyone together, and Geralt moves over to stand by Jaskier, who carries in a starving eight year old. They seat her between them when she demands to sit by both Daddy and Papa, with Mama across from her, and Geralt sneaks glances at Jaskier over her as the food is passed around, feeling his chest fit to burst from the warmth ballooning inside him. 

Jaskier glances back as he helps Ciri put mashed potatoes on her plate and offers him a small, secret smile, and Geralt wants to whisk him away then and there to somewhere they can be alone, just the two of them. 

Tonight _ ,  _ he tells himself. Tonight, he's going to take the leap and hope Jaskier is ready to catch him. 

It's late when Ciri finally tires out enough to let Yen put her to bed, though she insists on Papa telling her a story and tucking her in. Geralt scoops her up in his arms when she comes to him for a bedtime hug and kisses her forehead. 

"Goodnight, princess," he murmurs against her. "I'll see you in the morning." 

"Night-night, Daddy," she mumbles back, and he passes her off to Yen. The rest of them tell her goodnight as she's carried from the room, Jaskier following behind with her favorite storybook in hand. 

A gentle hush falls over the living room; the fireplace crackles pleasantly, and there's soft instrumental Christmas music playing on Vesemir's old record player. It's peaceful, but Geralt feels the urge to be fully alone, his nerves on edge from anticipation. He finishes his mug of cocoa and bids his brothers and father and Triss goodnight as well. 

Up in his— _ their _ —room, the only light that illuminates the space is from the bright, full moon reflecting off the snow outside. The silence calms him almost as much as the soft murmur of Jaskier's voice from down the hall in Ciri's room. He closes his eyes and lets it wash over him, centering himself with deep breaths, falling into a light meditation as he gathers his courage. 

Eventually, he feels a warm presence come up behind him, arms snaking around his waist. The familiar scent of his best friend wraps around him as Jaskier leans his head between his shoulder blades, and they stand quietly for a long, peaceful moment. 

"Thank you for inviting me," Jaskier says quietly, like he's afraid of disturbing the moment. "That—it means a lot to me." 

"I didn't want you to be alone," Geralt admits, just as soft. "Not if you could be with me instead." 

"You wanted me with you?" Jaskier asks, and it's light, playful. Teasing. But hopeful, too, he thinks, and Geralt takes one last deep breath before baring his soul. 

"I always want you with me." Jaskier's breath hitches, but he doesn't pull away, presses closer, in fact; Geralt soldiers on, bringing a hand up to cover Jaskier's, letting their fingers slip together. "I—You're important to me, Jas. I don't know how my life would have turned out without you. Everything you do—for me, for Ciri, for this family—you're a part of it. I  _ want  _ you to be a part of it. If you want." 

Jaskier inhales sharply, and Geralt can smell the hope on him, as well as the nerves. He pulls away, moves around so he's in front of Geralt, facing him. "Do you—Please tell me I'm not interpreting this wrong, Geralt, because it sounds like—"

"I love you, Jas," Geralt says, letting the words burst free the way they've been pushing to for years now. "Have for...a long time." 

Jaskier makes a noise in his throat like a surprised little laugh, and then his arms are around Geralt's neck, and Geralt's hands go to his waist to steady him, and then Jaskier's lips are against his own. 

His thoughts stop. His breath stops. Everything stops for a single beat of his slow heart, and then he comes alive again just in time to kiss back before Jaskier pulls away in panic, pulling him closer and tilting his head for a better angle as he licks into that warm mouth, tasting the lingering peppermint from the candy canes he'd eaten after dinner. 

Jaskier melts against him, letting out the sweetest little whine as he kisses Geralt harder, like he's trying to climb inside him. His fingers tangle in Geralt's hair and Geralt hums against him, holding him tighter. Gods, he never wants to let go again. 

"Took you long enough, you idiotic witcher," Jaskier gasps when they pull away for air. They don't go far; there's a breath of space between them, if that. "I've been waiting for you to make a move for  _ years. _ " 

Geralt has to kiss him again; he can't help it. "Why didn't  _ you _ ?" 

"Oh, is practically raising your daughter alongside you as my own flesh and blood not enough of a move for you?" Jaskier shakes his head in exasperation, his hair tickling Geralt's nose. "Honestly, you can be so obtuse, sometimes." 

And, well. When he puts it that way— "I. I didn't think you were interested," he says, feeling sheepish. "You flirt with anything on two legs, and you never seemed interested in long-term commitment—"

Jaskier smacks him in the chest, and Geralt obediently stops talking. He can feel the glare being leveled at him. "Of course I didn't. None of them were  _ you. _ " He gentles, then, reaching up to cup Geralt's cheek so tenderly Geralt feels ready to shatter. "But I didn't want to pressure you, if you weren't interested. You had Ciri to take care of—you  _ have  _ Ciri to take care of—and I know she comes first." 

"She calls you Papa," Geralt says weakly, and he's not sure what point he's trying to make with it, but Jaskier seems to understand. 

"She does," he agrees, and he sounds so  _ fond,  _ so giddy about it. "It's the greatest honor I've ever been given. And she truly is like my own daughter. I love her more than life, you know that." 

"I know," Geralt says, and he turns his head to brush his lips over Jaskier's palm. He lets his mouth curl up in a smile. "She'd be thrilled to know it's actually, you know, official. That you're her Papa." 

Jaskier leans in again, his breath warm on Geralt's cheek. "Are you asking me to marry you, witcher? Before we've even gone out to dinner? How scandalous." 

He wasn't, but thinking back over it, Geralt realizes how it sounded. He can't quite bring himself to deny it, though. "I mean." He clears his throat, almost embarrassed. His chest is full of warmth. He thinks he might explode. "According to just about everyone who matters, we practically are already." 

Jaskier pulls away, and Geralt tries hard not to pout about the loss of his warmth. His arms stay around Jaskier's waist, holding him in the circle of them, and he enjoys the sound of Jaskier's soft laughter. 

"I guess we can't argue with that," he agrees. His hands are warm on Geralt's cheeks as he reaches up to hold them; he can almost picture the stern look Jaskier's giving him. "But I would like to go out on an official date at least once before we tie that particular knot." 

Geralt hums and presses a kiss to Jaskier's forehead. "Okay." 

They let the silence of the night surround them then, simply enjoying being close in this new way. Eventually, Geralt leads them over to the bed, and they ready themselves for sleep—Jaskier steals one of his shirts and Geralt has to squash the flare of possessiveness that creeps up in his chest. 

He slides into the small bed first, Jaskier crawling in after him and curling up against his side. Geralt throws an arm around him and pulls him on top of his chest, tucking his head beneath his chin. Jaskier is out like a light not long after, his soft snores the best kind of lullaby. 

"Love you, Jas," he murmurs into the dark, closing his eyes and letting sleep find him, too. 

Outside, the snow continues falling in gentle flurries. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/troubadorer) / [tumblr](http:geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek.tumblr.com)


End file.
